They Don’t Have A Heart, Or Lungs…

, , , | Right | January 11, 2019

(Every year, the bookstore where I work does a book drive at Christmas. The books purchased by customers are donated to a local charity, which changes every year. As I am ringing up one customer:)

Me: “And would you like to purchase a book to donate to the Holiday Book Drive?”

Customer: “Where are the books going?”

Me: “This year, they’re going to the Heart and Lung Unit of [Local Kid’s Hospital].”

Customer: “Oh. No. If it was cancer, I’d donate.”

(Fortunately, the two customers next in line overheard, and both of them purchased several books to donate!)

Unfiltered Story #132312

, , | Unfiltered | December 12, 2018

When I was visiting Washington DC for a week, my dad broke his phone. As he was getting it fixed, I heard this little gem.

Woman: You fixed my f***ing phone last week now look at it!

Repair man (who was currently apologising in sign to the mother of a family of 3) : I can see, now how did it break? Did you drop it? And please mind your language.

Woman: No I f***ing didn’t! How f***ing dare you!  It was in my bag the whole f***ing time! You child! Come here! NOW!

She points at me and I walk over scared.

Woman: Does this look like it was broken by being dropped.

She then dropped it.

Me: Well, now it’s definitely broken.

Woman: B**ch.

She walked out whilst slamming the door, only to forget her well, damaged phone.

Defrauding A Fraudster

, , , | Legal | December 4, 2018

(One day, while discussing telephone scammers with a coworker, my cell phone rings. The caller ID shows my area code and exchange, but isn’t a number I recognize. Scammers often spoof the caller ID this way so people will think it’s a neighbor or friend.)

Me: “Hello. Telephone fraud investigations. Agent Smith speaking.” *a total fabrication*

Scammer: *click*

Me: “Huh. He hung up. I wonder why.”

Ikke Altid Håbløs

, , , , | Hopeless | December 3, 2018

(While riding the Metro — Washington DC’s subway — one day, my dad and I notice two teenage girls with hiking backpacks looking extremely worried as they stare at a map. Between the few words we can hear and the flags on their bags, we realize they must be Danish. Dad, an army officer in uniform, gets up and goes over to talk to them.)

Dad: *in Danish* “Excuse me, but could I help? It looks like you might be lost.”

Girl #1: “Du taler Dansk?!” *You speak Danish?!*

Dad: *in Danish* “Yes. I lived there for two years. Beautiful country!”

(The rest of the conversation continues in their language. They admit that they can’t make sense of the very bad map they have. My dad marks notations to help clarify things — including drawing on the Metro Lines so they can find which ones are closest to their destinations — and helping them locate major tourist attractions and their hostel. They chat about their other planned destinations, as well, and he gives them some advice, as he’s traveled to all of them. And, of course, they talk about Denmark; where they’re from, where he’d lived, things he misses most, etc. As we near their stop, Dad gets out his business card, writes his personal phone number and address on the back, and hands it to them.)

Dad: *in Danish* “Please call me if you have any more trouble. And if I don’t answer my office number–” *flips it to show them the back* “–please call my house. My wife only speaks a little Danish, but she’s home all day.”

Girls: “Thank you!”

Dad: “My pleasure! I do hope you enjoy the rest of your trip, and let me know if you need anything, even if you’ve already left town. I know folks in each of the cities you’re visiting, so don’t worry. You’ll never be far from a rescue if you get turned around again!”

(We didn’t hear from them again while they were on their trip, but several weeks later, a package arrived from Denmark. Inside was my dad’s favorite brand of chocolate — which he’d mentioned missing — and a thank-you note from the girls and their parents. Apparently, randomly running into a military officer who spoke their language the one time they got lost was the highlight of their trip, and their parents were very grateful he’d stepped in to help. My folks still exchange Christmas cards with them, and write notes about little things special to America, while they catch him up on the news from Denmark.)

Pray For Ricardo

, , , , , | Friendly | November 24, 2018

(Uber is still relatively new, but already very popular. I’m visiting Washington DC with my parents for an event; my dad went ahead to get the car and is coming back to pick us up at an agreed-on street corner. Some very well-dressed older ladies attending the same event are waiting nearby, and we make small talk as we wait. One of them is using Uber for the first time, and is very excited about it. Soon my dad pulls up to get us in a white minivan.)

Lady: “That’s him! That’s our Uber driver!”

Me: “Oh, ma’am, no, that’s actually my father, come to pick us up.”

Lady: “No, this is our Uber driver! His name is Ricardo!”

Mom: *joking, not aware that the lady is serious* “No, that’s our driver!”

(The lady opens the door and starts to get in, saying:)

Lady: “Thank you, Ricardo!”

(My dad is bewildered, wondering if we offered them a ride without telling him.)

Mom: “No, really, this is our car. This is my husband; he’s not an Uber driver.”

(By this time, the first lady is in the backseat, and the other two are getting in.)

Lady: “Oh… You’re not Ricardo?”

Dad: “No, sorry!”

Lady: *very dejected* “You’re not our Uber?”

Me: “No!”

Lady: “Are you sure? Is your name Ricardo?”

(They get out, and my mom and I get in. They continue to verify that my dad is NOT their Uber driver, when we hear a man’s voice calling, “Excuse me! Did you call for a ride?”)


Ricardo: “Yes, that’s me.”

(They rushed over to Ricardo in his red minivan. The funniest thing was, my dad’s name is Richard.)

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